


Fight Like a Girl (aka the High School Years)

by missgnutmeg, science_weasels



Series: Start Another Story [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (But She's Giving You a Head Start so RUN), ASL, Amputation, Asthma, Deaf, F/M, Gen, Natasha Fights Like A Girl, possible triggers, respiratory ailments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgnutmeg/pseuds/missgnutmeg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/science_weasels/pseuds/science_weasels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Start Another Story Universe. Natasha and the gang navigate high school.</p><p> </p><p>WARNING FOR POTENTIAL EVERYTHING TRIGGERS - We have the mature label for potential triggers far more than the potential sex scenes. This story talks about disabilities and bullying and sickness and self-harm and all sorts of unpleasantries. These are not things that should be ignored, but please be aware of your own needs. We welcome and encourage discussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freshman Year

Freshman Year

Natasha flops on the bed and turns on the television, loosening her hair from the tight braid but not bothering to change out of her judogi. She'll have to do laundry later she knows, but she can wait until her uncle comes home from his job at the plant. No sense in doing multiple loads.

She flips through the channels, secretly longing to hear the comforting rhythm of Russian instead of the strangely staccato American English. She's been in the United States for six weeks now, and she still hates the way the language sits on her tongue. But school is starting next week, and she knows an accent will mark her as a target for bullies, she's seen the movies. 

With a sigh, she rolls over onto her back. "Hello, my name is Natasha Romanova." No, still too foreign. Again. "Hello, my name is Natasha..." 

\-----First Semester----

The warning bell rings and Natasha kicks at her locker in frustration. Stupid lock, stupid combination, stupid school. She only has a few minutes to find her next class and her history textbook was still stuck inside. She is not going to be late, not on her first day! She spins the dial of the lock in frustration and tries again. 

"Need help?" The voice is so quiet she almost misses it. A scrawny blond boy is standing next to her, hand held out. "These locks can be tricky." 

Natasha considers for a moment, then moves aside allowing the boy to examine her lock. "Please." she says, and hands him the paper with her combination scrawled on it. The boy peers at the paper, then spins the dial rapidly. The lock clicks open and the boy steps back. "Give it an extra spin clockwise at the beginning."

"Thank you!" Natasha says quickly, grabbing her textbook and binder and slamming the locker shut again. The boy starts, obviously not expecting that degree of force from her. He glances down at her book. "American history huh? You in Bargeman's class?" When she nods, he smiles. "Me too. Come on, it's this way."

The boy takes too long to get up the stairs. Natasha impatiently waits at the landing for him, not realizing until he pulls out an inhaler that she may have been walking too fast. The bell rings and Natasha groans. The boy sighs and hauls himself up the last few steps. gesturing to a door on the right. 

The door opens with an audible creak as Natasha enters, earning a spiteful look from the teacher at the front of the room who has already started roll call. "What's your excuse?" She barks as the boy slips in behind Natasha. 

"I... uh..." Natasha starts, blushing furiously. 

"It's my fault, Ms. Bargeman." the boy behind her interrupts, panting slightly. "My lock was jammed and she stayed to help me." Natasha shoots a glance at the boy. Why is he lying for her?

Bargeman glowers. "Well. Don't be late again, or it's detention." she gestures at two empty seats in the middle of the classroom, that Natasha and the boy have to awkwardly shuffle into while their classmates whisper and giggle.

Roll call resumes, and she learns that the boy's name is Steve Rogers. When her name is called and Bargeman mispronounces Natasha's name, Steve is the only one who doesn't laugh. 

\----

Between homework, judo, and helping her aunt with her younger cousins, Natasha doesn’t have a lot of time to think about the boy in history class with the pretty blue eyes. She thinks that she can sense him staring at her sometimes, but she ignores him. The few glances she shoots his way show a boy with meticulous notes and detailed drawings in the margins. He raises his hand often, and seems to know a lot. She often sees him hanging out with another boy in the lunch room, the two of them laughing together like old friends. It’s hard not to feel jealous. 

She isn’t good at making friends. American teenagers are so… loud. She doesn’t watch the same TV shows or read the same magazines. Most of these girls seem so superficial, obsessed with lip gloss and doodling boys’ names in their notebooks. She hears their laughter when she is called to read aloud in class. She makes a list of which of them she’d like to throw if given the chance during a match.

Steve’s friend’s name is James Barnes, she finds out in her PE class second quarter. Everyone calls him Bucky, for reasons Natasha can’t understand. He’s only a freshman, but already rumored to be pitching for the varsity baseball team in the spring. Natasha decides to hate him on principle, but it’s hard when he seems so genuinely nice to everyone, especially Steve. 

Natasha quietly begins to fail American History, listens to My Chemical Romance on repeat while locked in her room, and seriously considers painting her nails black. She receives her green belt in judo, and stops writing to her friends back in Volgograd. 

\-----Midterms----

When midterms come out, Natasha is doing better than she expected. Math, Science and PE are all fine, English is a solid C, but American History is a D, a few percentage points away from flunking. Natasha’s aunt loses it, shaking her spoon at Natasha while stirring the boiling pot of noodles. “Natalia, Ivan and I brought you here for opportunities. We didn’t bring you here so you could listen to that terrible racket all day and not do your part!” 

“Why should I care about stupid dead Americans starting stupid American wars!” Natasha screams back, slamming her fists on the table. She wants to cry, so she shouts instead. “I hate this stupid school, I hate this stupid country!” She grabs a soda from the fridge and stomps upstairs, locking the door behind her and ignoring her aunt’s calls. She doesn’t come down for dinner. 

It takes her two more days (and some practicing in front of the mirror) to muster up the courage to ask Steve for help. At lunch, she spends the first ten minutes rehearsing her speech before walking up to the table where he sits with Bucky and standing awkwardly over him. “Hello Steve.” She says, startling him enough that he chokes on his milk. 

Bucky pounds his friend on the back, making sure he’s okay before glaring up at Natasha. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Natasha blinks, thrown off guard. Her pre-planned speech did not include a Bucky detour. 

“You shut down anyone trying to talk to you, ignore Steve for months after he saved your ass with Bargeman, and now you’re trying to kill him? Are you crazy, or just stupid?” Steve attempts to protest while wiping milk off his face, but Natasha is already gone. She spends the rest of lunch in the women’s restroom, pretending not to cry.

Steve catches up with her in front of her locker. “Sorry about Bucky.” He says, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “He’s kind of overprotective.” 

Natasha slams the door with a little more force than necessary. “Kind of?” She crosses her arms and stares at Steve.

“You do that a lot.” Steve winces. “Are you okay?”

“I thought maybe you could help me, but I see I was mistaken.” She zips her books into her bag and turns to go, finding herself face to face with Bucky again. 

“Look, Eurotrash--” Bucky begins, putting a hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t get a chance to finish as Natasha’s instincts take over and she flips him, using his weight against him to throw him not-too-gently to the ground. She’s ready to start throwing punches, but Steve is there in front of her, looking scared but determined. 

“Why don’t we all just calm down.” He says slowly, holding out his hands. “No more name calling, no more… weird crazy ninja moves, okay?” Bucky pushes himself up to his elbows with a groan, but nods slowly. After a moment Natasha nods as well, forcing herself to relax. 

“Let’s just start over, okay?” Steve says, smiling even though he looks sick. “My name is Steve. And that jerk on the floor is my jerk friend Bucky. He’s a jerk.” 

“Natasha Romanova.” Natasha says after a moment, smiling in spite of herself. “And I think I have been a jerk too.”

“Maybe a little?” Steve offers her a cautious handshake. Natasha eyes him before shaking his hand, gingerly to avoid breaking him. “See, that’s better.” Steve says with a nod. The warning bell buzzes and Steve sighs. “Okay, timing sucks. Why don’t you let Bucky and I walk you home this afternoon?”

\----

The walk home takes an unannounced detour into a McDonald’s. “Training for baseball season starts next week, I need to start loading up on carbs.” Bucky explains, as he orders three Happy Meals and an extra Big Mac. 

“And he collects the toys.” Steve adds in an undertone. Natasha stifles a giggle. “I’m going to be managing the team.” Steve continues a little more loudly, before placing his own order- a Big Mac with large fries and a Coke, exactly what Natasha thought all Americans ate watching US movies as a child. Natasha looks over the menu in painstaking detail before finally deciding on a chicken salad. It probably has just as many calories as Steve’s burger, but it felt better to have green things in her meal. 

“Where are you from, Natasha?” Bucky asks as he finishes off his second box of McNuggets. Steve shoots him a glare. “What?” Bucky protests. “I’m just trying to be friendly!”

“Volgograd.” Natasha replies. “You might know it as Stalingrad.”

Steve brightens. “Stalingrad? That was one of the most decisive battles of the second World War! It was instrumental in breaking the back of the Wehrmacht!”

“And now you know whose test to copy.” Bucky grins around a mouthful of Steve’s fries.

“...” Natasha sets her fork down very deliberately. “It was also the bloodiest battle in the war, heavy civilian casualties. My grandmother lost her entire family. Your history books tend to leave that out.”

The table is silent for a moment. Steve’s burger, which has been disintegrating throughout the meal plops onto the tray with a wet thud. 

“Now you understand why I’m failing _your_ history.” she says quietly, picking up her fork again. 

Steve speaks softly, carefully. “My father was a soldier. He came home in a coffin. I can’t even imagine what it’d be like if it was my whole family. Ma and I, we wouldn’t have made it without Bucky and his folks.”

The table is silent again for a moment before Bucky finishes his Coke with a loud slurp. “Who wants McFlurries?” He announces, pushing his chair back. “Courtesy of the jerk.”

\---Second Semester---  
Natasha’s days take on a sort of routine once baseball season starts. On days where she doesn’t have judo, she accompanies Steve to the dugout and works on her homework, pair of earbuds jammed in her ears to drown out the sounds of Bucky and his teammates exchanging raunchy banter. When Steve isn’t busy fetching bats or tallying equipment, he sits with her and drills her on battles of the American Civil War. 

Bucky fits in easily with his older, rougher teammates in a way that Steve and Natasha can only dream of. Natasha worries about Steve trying to keep up with them, especially on the afternoons she misses. She realizes her paranoia isn’t unfounded when Steve shows up to class one day strangely quiet. 

“I tripped.” He mumbles, avoiding her concern. Natasha’s fingers flex in anger. She absolutely hates bullies. Steve misinterprets the look on her face and smiles at her sadly. He has no idea what she’s capable of.

At the next practice she attends, she notices a pair of the boys in particular giving Steve a tough time. Steve sidesteps one aggressor only to fall victim to a second shoving him down into the dirt. He picks himself up with a shake of his head, but Natasha is there faster and ready to fight.

Natasha aims low with her first punch, the boy goes to grab her hand but then her left hand smashes his temple and he falls back. Quickly she spins, and uses the momentum to knock the second boy over using her right forearm.

She takes up a defensive pose as she eyes the others on the team. "Anyone else want to fuck with my friend?"

The stand off is broken by Bucky’s arrival, taking in the scene incredulously. “Keep your crazy bitch away from us.” One of the boys spits, shouldering Bucky out of his way as he heads out to the diamond. 

“Jesus Christ, Natasha.” Bucky says after a moment. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really scary when you’re angry?”

“This isn’t angry.” Natasha assures him. “Angry involves a lot more bleeding.”

\---Finals Week---  
Natasha takes her history final the same day of the city-wide baseball championship game. She and Steve have been cramming for a week now, and she’s pretty confident going into the test. She just needs to get a B on this exam to bring her final grade for the year up to a B-. No pressure or anything. At least she’s doing better than Steve, who appears to be sweating buckets. 

As soon as the final bell rings, they shoot out the door, Natasha keeping careful hold on the poster they’ve made for Bucky. Down the stairs, out to the bus stop, on to the bus, and down to the city stadium. Steve looks like he’s about to fall over from excitement, and Natasha has to gently remind him to use his inhaler. 

They get there early enough to set up right behind home base, unfurling their poster (artwork courtesy of Steve) where Bucky has the best chance of seeing it. He lights up when he trots onto the field a few minutes later, flashing them a stupid grin and a hearty double thumbs up. 

It’s a close game, one Steve calls a ‘nailbiter,’ and in the end it comes down to a lucky hit in the ninth inning. Bucky has been pitching a great game, and the team works as a well-oiled machine. But then in the ninth inning, a batter from the rival team manages to knock one literally out of the park, resulting in a game winning home run. 

As the other team celebrates, Natasha doesn’t think she’s ever seen Bucky so close to tears. They catch up with him outside of the locker room, and Steve stands on his tiptoes to sling an arm around his best friend’s shoulders. “That was the best game you’ve ever pitched, Bucky!” He says encouragingly, punching his arm playfully. 

“Like that matters, we still lost.” Bucky counters morosely, staring at his feet. “It’s just like the other guys say, I’m not good enough to run with the varsity team.”

“Oh suck it up, Princess.” Natasha bursts out, causing Bucky to look up at her in surprise. “You can’t control that the other team has some sort of superhuman monstrosity on their team. You did more as a freshman than those cavemen have managed in four years. There’s always next year!”

“Besides,” Steve adds with a grin, imagining Bucky in a tiara. “Scouts care about your averages, not your team’s points.”

“You’re right.” Bucky says, brightening. “Come on. Let’s go get a McFlurry. Courtesy of Princess Jerk.”


	2. Worst Summer Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer after freshman year is the worst summer ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers:
> 
> \- I own nothing.  
> \- I don't sports, so please let me know if I have incorrectly sportsed.  
> \- I am not fluent in Russian or ASL, so please send any corrections my way! (Translations listed in end notes, in case you're curious!) 
> 
> -Nori

“Summer is stupid!” Natasha whines, finishing up her braid and pulling the tail through her baseball cap. “It’s hot and sticky and stupid.” 

“Be nice to summer!” Steve chides, perched on the side of her bed in an ancient Dodgers jersey. “It’s not the season’s fault you grew up in the frozen north.”

Natasha laughs. “Volgograd is hardly Siberia, Stevie. Maybe I’ll take you sometime so you can see.”

“I’d like that.” Steve says with his wide-eyed sincerity Natasha loves. “I hear they have Zaitsev’s sniper rifle in the museum there.” He pauses. “Hey ‘Tasha? Why don’t you ever wear you hair down?”

“You are so weird, Rogers. First off, hair is hot and leaving it down might kill me in this heat. Secondly, I got in the habit of putting it up for ballet. It’s much more convenient this way.”

“Ballet?” Steve begins, but is cut off as a horn honks in the driveway, Natasha’s Uncle Ivan getting impatient. He’s taking his one day off from the plant to take Natasha, Steve and Bucky to a Yankees game, and is already hating the idea of city traffic on a game day.

\----

Yankee Stadium is filled to capacity for the game against the Dodgers, mostly fans of the home team. Steve’s jersey gets a few mean looks and whispered comments from the locals, but Bucky buys them all chili-cheese dogs and giant sodas in souvenir cups, and the other 49,000 people in the stadium are forgotten as the game gets underway. 

The sun is shining brightly, the excitement of the crowd is infectious, and the game is incredibly entertaining. Even Ivan can’t stop himself from smiling, relaxing with a pretzel in one hand and a beer in the other. Steve and Bucky exchange good-natured insults about the other’s preferred team and pelt each other with popcorn. 

Natasha is sweaty, her shoes are stuck to the floor of the stadium by some amalgam of popcorn, soda, and cotton candy, and she thinks she forgot to put sunblock on her shoulders. And for the first time since arriving in the States, Natasha feels truly happy. 

\----  
Aunt Sonya has gotten it into her head that Natasha will never be a real American teenager until she goes to summer camp. “Natalia, it is a formative experience!” she coaxes, pushing the brochure across the table. “Archery, horseback riding, swimming, it looks fun!”

“How is being shipped off to some shack in the wilderness where I don’t know anyone any definition of fun? Six weeks is practically an eternity!” Natasha whines, thunking her head on the table gently. 

“Nonsense. You’re going and you’re going to love it.” Sonya doesn’t make declarations often, but when she does, they are ironclad. 

“I’m going to need a new swimsuit.” Natasha finally says, not picking up her head from the table. 

\----  
Natasha’s incredibly cute, and barely aunty-approved bikini is packed securely in her duffle bag away from Ivan’s eyes as he loads it and her sleeping bag into the station wagon. Bucky and Steve are standing on the sidewalk in front of Natasha’s house, trying very hard to look supportive and not jealous. Bucky hands her a bag full of “contraband” (fun size candy bars and gum), and Steve sheepishly hands over a disposable camera. “Take pictures for us?” he asks. 

“Take pictures of cute boys!” Bucky teases. Natasha hits him. Sonya clucks her tongue. Natasha impulsively hugs Steve, then pulls Bucky in as well. “I will.” She promises. “Please don’t forget to write. I’m going to go crazy trapped up there alone.” She adds in an undertone. “And stay out of trouble, _duraky_.” She punches Bucky again for good measure and heads to the car.

“How does she manage to call us idiots and make it sound nice?” Steve whispers as Natasha leaves. “No idea.” Bucky whispers back, waving at her until the door closes. “But I’m okay with it if it keeps her from hitting me. She hits **hard** for a girl.” 

“If she hears you saying that she’ll hit you even harder.” Steve reminds him, also waving. 

“Yeah, I know.”

\----  
Contrary to Bucky’s advice, Natasha does not spend her first week at camp taking photos of cute boys. Instead, she gets a tan for the first time in her life, rides horses, and fails miserably at archery. It frustrates her to no end, she’s unused to failing at something involving dexterity. The bow twangs painfully off of her forearm and Natasha drops the bow. “ _Blya!_ You stupid no good piece of carbon fiber disappointment!” 

“That’s going to bruise.” The voice comes from behind her, accented in a way Natasha can’t quite place. Natasha spins around to find a tall blond boy watching her, one hand loosely holding a bow, other hand cocked on his hip. He’s wearing a forearm guard that appears to be purple, and he’s got that know-it-all grin that Natasha is used to seeing on Bucky. 

“Sure, it’s easy to act tough when you’ve got padding.” She shoots back, mocking his pose by placing a hand on her hip. The hotshot looks a little offended and makes a shaking gesture with his wrist. 

“Sass isn’t going to keep your arm from bruising, Red. You have to rotate your elbow out.” He picks up his bow with an ease that certainly came from years of practice, and deliberately rotates his arm. “It hurts like a sonuvabitch if you hit the bruised part again.” He adds. 

“Thanks hotshot.” Natasha says, picking up her bow and trying again. The arrow misses the target by at least a foot, but at least she doesn’t hit her arm again. 

“Clint.” He says. 

“What?”

“Clint.” He says again, moving his right hand up and making five quick gestures with his fingers. Natasha stares at his hand in confusion, so he repeats the gestures, this time speaking with each movement. “C-L-I-N-T. My name. What’s yours?”

Oh? Oh! Realization dawns and Natasha blushes, feeling slow. “Natasha. Sorry I can’t spell it like you do.”

Clint smiles. “Natasha.” he says, pronouncing it carefully, brushing his chin with two fingers. . “The manual alphabet is actually pretty easy. I can teach you if you’d like.” He smiles, and she finds herself smiling back.

\----  
By dinnertime, Clint has taught her the manual alphabet, and the all important phrase: I’m sorry, my signing is bad. 

“So maybe you’re not hopeless Natasha, but you need to use your face too. Your hands can be perfect, but nobody will have any clue what you’re talking about if you don’t show facial expressions.” Clint directs, leaning back. They are on the dock at the lake, feet dangling in the water. There are many things Natasha wants to ask Clint. Not just about ASL, but about archery, and other things Clint likes. She likes seeing him smile, likes that he doesn’t seem offended by her sarcasm. “What’s the sign for ‘Thanks’?” She asks instead. 

The dinner bell clangs, and Clint and Natasha join the throng of teenagers headed to the dining hall. They are about to go inside when a counselor jogs up behind them, out of breath. “There you are! Romanova, phone call for you in the office.” Natasha looks over at Clint, who gives her a concerned look. Campers getting calls on the office phone is not a normal thing. Mind racing with worry, Natasha follows the counselor to the office, not looking back at her new friend. It’s Sonya, and she sounds like she’s been crying. 

“Natalia, there has been an accident. Steve and Bucky are in the hospital. Ivan is driving up to get you now.” The world spins and Natasha sits down hard on the edge of the desk. Steve and Bucky, hurt? The next hour passes in a blur as she returns to her cabin to pack up her things and wait for her uncle. She catches a glimpse of Clint peering out of the door to his cabin, looking concerned. “Sorry.” She signs, before hefting her duffle over her shoulder and heading back to the office.

When Ivan arrives, Natasha is full of questions: What happened, are they okay, are Steve’s lungs damaged? Ivan doesn’t have any answers, just a phonecall from Steve’s mother saying that Steve was conscious and asking for Natasha. The hour-long drive back home feels like an eternity.

\----  
Steve is awake but groggy when Natasha bursts in, managing to look exhausted and terrified at the same time. He’s bruised and has a cut on his forehead, but looks otherwise intact. “ _Bozhe moy_ , Stevie.” She breathes, moving to his bedside. She wants to hug him but is thrown off by all the tubes and monitors. Instead she sits on the edge and grabs the hand that doesn’t have an IV drip in it. “Steve, what happened? They wouldn’t tell me at the desk and I…” 

Steve shakes his head slowly, and Natasha can tell he’s on painkillers. “The train.” he says, as if that explains everything. Natasha blinks. “Bucky slipped, and I caught him. But then he…I didn’t. Tash! I didn’t!”

“Shh shh.” Natasha whispers, stroking his hand. “It’s okay Stevie, it’ll be okay.” Her maternal instinct reminds her to calm him down, while her heart begins to beat faster and faster. What the hell were they doing on a train?

"It's all my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Steve is babbling, practically incoherent, and a monitor beside them begins to beep. A nurse bustles in and gives Natasha a stern look. “Miss, you’re going to have to leave. Mr. Rogers needs his rest.”

“I’ll be right down the hall, Steve. I’ll be right here when you wake up, okay?” Natasha promises as another glare follows her out of the room. 

“Tell Bucky I’m sorry!” Steve practically wails as the nurse draws the curtain closed.

\----  
Steve has bruised ribs and a concussion, a few superficial cuts and a chipped tooth. He’s being kept overnight for observation to make sure there’s no additional damage to his lungs, but he should be able to go home in the morning. Bucky’s condition is harder to find out about. Natasha stalks the halls of the hospital for 45 minutes holding an increasingly lukewarm cup of coffee before she finds Bucky’s parents in the waiting area outside of a surgical bay on the third floor. 

“George Barnes, Rebecca Barnes.” She says formally, nodding her head. She belatedly remembers that Mr. and Mrs. is more appropriate in the US, and mentally kicks herself. Stupid English. “Would you like coffee?” She looks down at the cold coffee in her hand. “I could get more.”

Bucky’s mother looks up at her with red eyes and bursts into tears. Mr. Barnes hugs her shoulders tightly and smiles tiredly at Natasha. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. And tea for her, if you can find something herbal.”

Natasha is relieved to have something to do and rushes back to the vending machines, returning with peppermint tea and a hot coffee, which Mr. Barnes accepts with another polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Have a seat. We’re hoping to hear from his surgeon soon.”

Natasha doesn’t press the issue and waits with them in awkward silence for another half hour before a tired doctor in surgical green comes out to meet them. Natasha is forgotten amidst a flood of medical jargon. “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, as you know, there was massive trauma. It appears as though his forearm was crushed by the train after his fall.. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stabilize him after a transfusion. We were lucky, the losses were nowhere near as substantial as they usually are in these cases, however I regret to inform you that we had to perform an elbow disarticulation.” 

Bucky’s mother sinks to the ground with a small sob. “My poor baby!” Mr. Barnes appears equally stunned, but offers his hand to the surgeon to shake. “Thank you doctor, for all you’ve done.”

The surgeon accepts the handshake and nods. “I’m sorry that it wasn’t more. They’ll be bringing him into recovery in a few minutes, you should be able to see him soon. The limb specialist will be by tomorrow to discuss prosthetic options.”

“Thanks again.” Mr. Barnes says quietly, and helps his wife to his feet. “I’m sorry Natasha, could we have some time alone with Bucky?”

“Of course.” Natasha says too quickly, head spinning. She doesn’t understand what has just happened. She returns to her chair outside Steve’s room with another cup of coffee. The shift nurse finds her there the next morning, feet tucked up, fast asleep.

\----  
Steve is more coherent in the morning, and able to explain a little bit more about the previous night’s accident. They had been at a party hosted by one of Bucky’s baseball teammates. There had been a bit of drinking, a bit of pot, and stupid dares started happening. Some upperclassman named Grant Ward had the dumbass idea to try and hop the evening train as it came through town. The entire team agreed to go, and Steve insisted on coming along. 

Steve claims that Bucky was so distracted by trying to help him get on up the ladder on the side of the rail car, his hand slipped and he lost his grip. Steve was able to grab him and hold on for a moment, but Bucky fell and hurt his arm. Steve didn’t see much more because he jumped off after Bucky and hit his head. 

Natasha climbs into bed with him (giving the stern nurse the finger) and holds Steve, stroking his hair and humming gently as he cries. 

\----  
Bucky wakes up that afternoon. Natasha accompanies Steve down the hall, letting him use her for support, pushing along his drip stand and checking the floor for obstacles. Bucky’s bed is elevated, and his mother is spoon-feeding him lime jello, ignoring his complaints. He brightens visibly as he sees them and waves. 

Or attempts to. Natasha’s breath catches in her throat as she realizes that Bucky’s left arm ends above the elbow. “ _Tva'yoo mat'._ ” she mutters, eyes filling with tears. Bucky’s mother catches Natasha’s eye and nods slightly, putting down her spoon and leaving the room. 

Steve hasn’t noticed yet, Natasha can tell by his excited, but labored progress across the room to Bucky’s side. “You jerk, I’m so glad you’re oka-” his eyes fall on Bucky’s left arm. “Oh my God.” He goes limp, and Natasha barely manages to catch him before he hits the floor. Bucky’s face falls and he stares at his his left side. 

“Guess it’s real then.” He says softly. “I kept hoping I was seeing things, maybe the drugs?” He lifts his stump again. “Guess this means my baseball career is over.” Tears run down Natasha’s cheeks. Steve is inconsolable, incapable of saying anything other than “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> *Clint signs "WOW" in response to Natasha's snark. Reference [ here ](https://38.media.tumblr.com/a76a936e1f043fe2d299757385ebdc8a/tumblr_n9c5z6U7EP1rqns6ho1_500.gif)
> 
> Natasha's swears:  
> * Duraky- idiots.  
> * Blya- dammit.  
> * Bohze moy- my god.  
> * T'va yoo mat' - dammit (lit. your mother)  
> [ Reference.](http://www.vnutz.com/curse_and_swear/russian)


End file.
